


Ineffable Dads

by Frisky_Business



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A lot of Dad jokes are incoming please be prepared, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I just enforce them, M/M, dads being dads, i don't make the rules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frisky_Business/pseuds/Frisky_Business
Summary: An AU where Crowley avoids Armageddon by kidnapping the Antichrist. Aziraphale was not prepared to be thrust into parenthood, but to be honest, I don't quite think anyone is.





	1. An Angel, A Demon and the Antichrist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatieKat527](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieKat527/gifts).



> "I've probably made worse decisions, sure. But I mean, this is on the top of /pretty bad/ decisions."
> 
> "For God's sake, you're only complaining because you've never had to change a diaper before. You're such a drama queen."
> 
> "Humans. Are. So. Gross..."

Chapter One: An Angel, A Demon and the Antichrist

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Crowley was a lot of things, a lot of /bad/ things, but kidnapper was never one of them. Well, until today. Well, until about 20 minutes ago. Here he was, sitting in the Bentley with a baby in the backseat. He /should/ have gone immediately to the hospital to drop off the antichrist and bring about the apocalypse. Well, he should have done a lot of things, now that he thought about it…Armageddon was the dream of every demon in hell and admittedly, it once was his dream. That was, until he tasted wine and listened to classical rock. Not that either have any relatability to each other, save being some of his favorite things.

“Well shit.” He sped through at least 2 stop signs, potentially hit at least 12 pedestrians. But who was counting, eh? “What’s so great about the end of the world anyway? Without earth, all of us lot have no jobs. Ain’t any fun in tormenting each other, is there?” 

Earth had a lot of wonderful things about it. A lot of pleasures that hell could never replicate, well, mostly because hell wasn’t very pleasant at all. That’s a dumb prospect to have to bring to anyone’s attention. “Hell ain’t that pleasant, donchaknow?” Shit. He didn’t exactly want to go back to hell, to be honest. He enjoyed Earth a little too much with all the little things it had to offer, including Queen and Chardonnay. It was mostly the little things he enjoyed, to be frank. Long walks in the park on just so perfect London afternoons, those rare instances where he could go without an umbrella. Feeding the pigeons on the street, those buggers were definitely a spawn of his kind. The delightful bistros that always seemed to have the perfect cup of Earl Grey waiting…. 

Aziraphale.

His closest and most trustworthy friend. His love for his friend was something he never would have seen in the thousands of years their feet tread the same path. He was supposed to be his enemy, but there was never any real animosity. It was more of playful competition between the two of them, really. Two sides of the same coin. Two immortal beings just trying to play a part in a bigger, more complex reality. A puppet show where the strings were always tied to each other, slamming the two of them into the same situation at the same point in time. Kind of romantic, if you think about it like that. Or at least, that’s what Aziraphale would say about it. Stupid angel and his stupid books and his stupid ways rubbing off on him. Perhaps he was the real stupid one all along. 

Regardless, armageddon was not something he wanted any part in. So therefore, he would do what he always did when he wanted to avoid a problem. He unconsciously headed directly to the bookshop, where he knew Aziraphale would be waiting. 

He would just… deliver the antichrist to him. Yeah. That works, right? Although he would never vividly remark on the sentiment, the angel typically had better ideas about /moral/ situations than he did. Surely Aziraphale and his infinite, angelic wisdom, would deliver sound advice for this dilemma. 

“Good evening Crowley, you do realize what time it is, right?” 

“Haven’t got much time for formalities angel.” He waved his hand to the back seat of the Bentley. A very… Odd noise caught Aziraphale’s attention.

“I-Is that a… C-Crowley you didn’t.”

Morals. Yes. Kidnapping was something not high on a moral standards thing, he let out a huff.

“So yeah, long story short, I’d like to introduce you to the antichrist.” A bit more nonchalant than he wanted to be, but you don’t normally get to rehearse this type of thing. The angel had a positively unreadable expression on his brow. “I’m all for dramatics, but I’m almost positive you have something to say on this matter.” Aziraphale just stood there for a moment, almost like that awkward hourglass on a computer loading screen. 

“Shit.”

“Repeat that.” 

“Shit. I said SHIT Crowley! What have you done?”

“Well, I do say it is a bit of a shock because I’ve never heard you curse before, well, ever!” Crowley sounded more flustered than he did while delivering the antichrist to Aziraphale’s residence. “Listen angel, this is our ticket to avoiding armageddon.” Both of their eyes focused upon the small child cooing in the back seat of the Bentley. 

“This is not part of the plan, Crowley. Our whole lives have been mapped out by the /plan/. You literally cannot disrupt dozens of centuries of work because you /want/ to do so!”

“There are a lot of reasons I don’t want to see the end of the world. And I’m sure you agree with me, Aziraphale. Don’t lie, we both know you’re terrible at it.” The angel bent down and unbuckled the basket, carefully placing the infant in his arms. He looked absolutely panicked, but his expression remained calm. 

“Yes, it is true…” His curious blue eyes gazed over at the demon, “But we can’t… We would be ruined. Both of us would be going against our sides.”

“Sides? Aziraphale, you think I give a flying fuck about sides?” Crowley huffed as the angel looked at him disgruntled. 

“Not in front of the child.”

A smile crept onto the demon’s face.

“See, you are already attached to him. I made the right decision to give him to you!” That was the ultimate bombshell. 

“Oh heavens, are you just going to leave me alone with the boy?”

“Uh yeah, duh. I’m a demon, I would end up corrupting him. You know how awful our influence is.” He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. 

“Absolutely not. You are not going to hand me an infant and leave me alone with him. I am not going to become a single parent just because you can’t handle the responsibility of parenthood!” Aziraphale thrust the boy into Crowley’s arms. 

“Shit! Are you trying to make me drop this baby? For someone’s sake, you can’t just go around /throwing/ babies, you fiend!” Hot potato-ing the infant back into his companion’s grasp. Aziraphale moved closer to catch the baby as the two of them rubbed shoulders, each man holding one half of the infant. 

“I think you know what we must do.” 

“Aziraphale. You… Suggesting we kill a baby…”

“No you ignoramus! The two of us are going to raise him. We are going to give him the most boring life imaginable. And on his 11th birthday, he will have no reason to end the world.” Crowley looked down at the child and sighed. The two of them had their hands tied, metaphorically speaking.

“Fine. I don’t like it, but without me you’re mostly hopeless.” The man stared down at his companion and offered a half smile. 

“A name. He needs a name…” Aziraphale hummed, running his hand across the small crown of the beast.

“Adam.” Crowley spoke, almost as if it were an inside joke between the two of them. The event that brought them together those many, many eons ago. 

“A right fine name,” the angel concurred, “Now come inside, we have a lot of planning to do. I would also like a brandy.” 

“You do, occasionally, have the best ideas.” Aziraphale let out a chuckle as he guided them into the small house. 

“Compared to you, my dear, I probably have the best ideas.”


	2. Sleepless in Soho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a baby is rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. But I needed this as much as you guys did.

Chapter 2: Sleepless in Soho

Adam was cute. Exceptionally cute. His hazel eyes gazing up at the two of them curiously made both of them feel… Weak. Crowley was reminded often how fragile the infant was. Therefore, he tried not to hold him for an extended period of time. Their lives had gotten increasingly difficult in one rash decision made by Crowley.

They became roommates.

God. Satan. Whatever. It was impossible to please Aziraphale and all of his damn rules for the house. And the baby. Would that damn thing ever stop /crying/. It felt as if every time Crowley attempted to close his eyes, the baby would start its incessant screaming and would not relent. Demons had no need for sleep, but god damn he wanted sleep more than anything in his life. Eternity be damned if he had to suffer another cursed evening shoving a bottle into that creature’s mouth and praying it would just offer him a moment or two of peace. He supposed the baby really wasn’t all that terrible. He certainly got lots of prying eyes from ladies on strolls whenever he had the child in the bassinet. Many women would coo over him at the same time as Adam, and well, it couldn’t be helped! After all, attractive men with babies were the kryptonite of women (and some men, but who was judging!). 

But his favorite part about Adam was watching Aziraphale interact with him. If he was considered attractive when holding a baby, the angel radiated with vibes he thought only god themself could possess. Aziraphale proved that Crowley himself was not very devoted toward Satan at all, because all he wanted to do was stay with him. His gentle hands feeding and rocking the infant made Crowley shiver with emotions he never had before… God. Satan. Whoever. He loved Aziraphale more than he could ever put into words. No language was quite fitting for such a scene, or at least, no language he knew. Not to brag, he thought, but he knew a lot of languages! It was one of those moments, he was staring for way too long…

“Is there something wrong, my dear?” Aziraphale interrupted his thoughts.

“Nah, just enjoying the quiet.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. Adam was softly snoozing in Aziraphale’s arms, something Crowley wished he could rip out of time and frame. Aziraphale calmly slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose, nodding his head in agreement. 

“It is nice we don’t have to sleep. I don’t understand how humans do it, honestly. We’ve only had Adam for a little over a month and I felt like I haven’t slept for any of it.” The angel did look exhausted. Crowley found himself rising to his feet, his hands gently slipping around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel let out a small gasp, glancing at his companion. 

“Perhaps I should take over, eh?” Crowley whispered into his ear, feeling the white hairs on Aziraphale’s neck raising up on end. 

“No, it’s quite alright, my dear.” He settled into his routine relatively quickly, not even bothering to move Crowley’s hands. Crowley began to hum something softly, gently swaying the angel. Aziraphale had begun to close his eyes… Seems rocking helped the angel get sleep as well, eh? Good thing to know, he supposed. Aziraphale leaned into him, resting his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley leaned down so his face was nestled in Aziraphale’s hair. His hands released the angel’s hips, taking the moment to lift Aziraphale’s chin with his fingers. He bent down in order to close the gap… 

And…

Adam began to stir, the tiny boy crying out in considerable /agony/ as far as Crowley was concerned. As fast as the moment had developed, it was destroyed. 

God DAMMIT. 

“I’ll take him out to get some fresh air.” Crowley suggested, as the angel quickly nodded and handed Adam to him. 

“Yes, yes very well. I’ll make us some cocoa. It’s cold tonight, don’t let him catch a chill.” 

“Yes dear.” The man muttered absentmindedly, draping a blanket around the infant and filing out the door. Figures he would get the infant and literally have no other fun part of the spouse ‘having’ process. He didn’t even get to experience the fun part about babies! Making them was the fun part. He huffed defiantly as he strolled to the corner of the street, holding Adam close to his heart.

“I could drop you right now you little shit. Honestly. Truly. It wouldn’t make me lose an ounce of sleep. In fact, I think it would help the sleep thing enormously.” The child glanced up at him with thoughtful eyes, the wailing subsided. “Bugger. You’re very cute. Were you jealous of me advancing upon your… dad?” A mischievous smirk crossed Crowley’s face, “Adam, you know I’ve had my eyes on him first. Don’t even think you can fight me on this one.” 

Adam cooed gently at Crowley’s words. The demon felt another feeling well up in his chest as he held the baby closer. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty okay yourself. Don’t tell him I told you that, okay?” 

Aziraphale watched quietly from the window and felt his adoration for the demon grow. They were very cute together. Heavens, he’d never live it down if he had said something to Crowley. He would need to carefully watch from the sidelines. 

Snow.

“Come along now,” Aziraphale called from the door, “I warmed up a bottle and I’ve got cocoa. It’s going to get cold if you two don’t hustle.” Crowley cocked his head and nodded. 

“Yes /dear/.”


	3. Thou Shall Not Steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had the ability to completely neglect grocery shopping. Miracles are pretty neat, I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't stop me now. I'm on a roll.

Chapter 3: Thou Shall Not Steal

If there was something Aziraphale wished he could do, it was make it so Adam would no longer grow up. He loved when Adam was a baby and only had a few wants and needs. He was growing entirely too quickly, and that had hit Crowley and himself like a tonne of bricks. 

There were a few things that the Bible neglected to tell you. One of those few facts was that God designed demons in the precise image of a toddler. So cute but so deadly. After you made it past two, everything would suddenly look a lot more hopeful. But that single year was one that lasted at least three times the span of a regular year. Antichrist or not, toddlers were relatively similar in their desire to destroy. Aziraphale was positively worried that he had mucked up this child rearing process entirely based solely on the desire to throw the infant out a window at least 12 times a day. Thankfully, all the books on the matter had confirmed that it was a /phase/, and dropping a child was still considered a sin even if he did spill cocoa all over your newest, rare book find. 

Unfortunately for him, it was also one of the few times Crowley found himself leaving on official hell business. At least with the demon around, he had a moment to breathe. But now it was just Aziraphale and the toddling Antichrist for a week. As long as he kept the beast on a schedule, it was manageable, and he was under no strong desire to break out of said schedule no matter what. But as things go and life tends to be an unforgiving bastard, he found himself having to run errands with the beast in tow. Aziraphale hated bringing Adam out in public because Adam would do little things that would suggest that he and Crowley were not meant to be parents. He was often worried about how frequently the passing thought of child services coming to the bookstore and demanding the child and his stupid muttering would arise, “Excuse me but you can’t take this child. He is the Antichrist. You know, the adversary, destroyer of kings, angel of the bottomless pit, great beast that is called dragon, prince of this world, father of lies, son of satan, and lord of darkness.”

Little did he know that no one was going to call about young Adam, because all toddlers acted like barbarians on steroids. 

They found themselves at the market. Aziraphale needed to pick up more formula and perhaps a bottle or two of wine. Adam bounced along happily in the basket, babbling a bunch of silly nonsense he had picked up. 

Adam’s vocabulary consisted of a few words: Book (Aziraphale was proud of this one), red, kitty, dinosaur, angel, demon, Crow (pronounced Croaw, as if he were trying to say the demon’s name!), Az (pronounced ‘ass’ and allowing Crowley to promptly lose his entire mind laughing), dog, and bugger (which was something that Aziraphale was not entirely pleased, but Crowley thought it was funny). 

Aziraphale was currently in an aisle, weighing out the difference between the off brand and regular brand cereal as he heard Adam’s small proclamation, “Bugger!” The angel turned to the child and looked a bit tired as he turned his head to apologize to whomever his child had decided to curse at.

“I’m quite sorr-“

BUGGER. 

It was Gabriel. Why on earth did he have to run into the archangel at this very point in time. The man looked intensely interested in the infant sitting in Aziraphale’s cart, carefully eyeing him before offering a confused look in Aziraphale’s direction.  
“Aziraphale.” His voice was curt. “What may I ask is.. That?”

“A baby. Well, a toddler.” Aziraphale spoke, his voice breaking up like a prepubescent teenage boy caught with beer in his coat. 

“I understand that. But why do you have a baby?”

There were a dozen ways Aziraphale could have responded to it. About 11 of those reasons were semi-decent, but Aziraphale was a very shitty liar. 

“He’s my nephew,” the angel spoke, carefully eyeing the angel before turning the cart, “And it’s about time for him to meet up with his mother so we ought to get rolling, eh my dear?” He didn’t even give Gabriel a chance to respond, although the only thing that would have come from his mouth was a brief… 

“Okay. Have a blessed day Aziraphale.”

He literally should have miracled groceries. Heavens, all that would have happened was an angry letter from heaven addressing his frequent and unnecessary usage of miracles. Instead, he decided to be a good /human/ and go to the market. Damned him right up, didn’t it? He absentmindedly stood in the check out line as Adam reached for one of the chocolates hanging precariously to his left. The child grasped the sweet and placed it in his diaper for safe keeping. You could hear a pin drop in the market as Gabriel’s voice rang out loud and clear from the bakery, “Wait a minute angels can’t have….”

Shit!

Bugger!

“Gotta go gotta go gotta go!” The angel swept the toddler into his arms and left the entire cart of groceries in line. He would definitely need to apologize for that inconvenience later. Oh dear.

The two of them raced out of the store faster than Aziraphale thought he could move. Of course, panic had a way of making someone into an olympic athlete, under the right conditions. He miracled his way back to the bookstore, toddler in tow. One of the few times he heard Adam giggle…

He let out a sigh of relief as he managed to get them back safely, turning off all of the lights in order to provide the guise that he was not present. He whisked Adam into the small kitchen and let out another long, exacerbated breath. “My boy, that would have been a close one, eh?” That was when he noticed the chocolate bar hanging out of Adam’s diaper. “Oh… Oh heavens you… didn’t did you?” 

The baby let out a small giggle in reply. 

~Ring Ring Ring~

Aziraphale’s hand lazily reached for the phone. It was late. 

“Hey angel.” His voice sounded so sweet, but entirely too far away for his liking. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale remarked, placing his head in his hands and letting out another long sigh. 

“How’re you holding up, my dear?”

“Quite miserable. I would like to demand you come home this instant.” Crowley’s voice let out a chuckle, his breathing audible on the line.

“Oh? What was so bad?”

“….I-I’m going to go to hell, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice broke up uncomfortably. Crowley’s voice was now shaking from how much he was laughing. 

“It isn’t that terrible is it?”

“Thou shall not steal and HE STOLE.” Aziraphale’s voice was cracking from the tears pouring from his eyes, “A Cadbury bar. He stole one. We stole one. I should have checked his diaper and heavens I’m going to hell for sure. I broke one of the ten commandments. I am no better than a regular old criminal!”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed, his whole BEING swearing he wasn’t going to laugh any harder than he was but… But Aziraphale’s midlife crisis was about accidentally stealing a chocolate bar. He squeezed the bridge of his noise and tried to keep his voice tame and collected. 

“Crowley I’m serious! This is the worst! I’m going to saunter down right after you and of course I would because we have the literal /antichrist/ in our care! And he STOLE!”

“Aziraphale. Take a moment and listen to yourself. Did you at least pay for it afterwards?” 

“Why of course! I left 50 euros and an apology. But it doesn’t excuse the act!”

Crowley was now audibly laughing, his efforts were fruitless. 

“Angel. God will forgive you and the Antichrist for accidentally stealing a chocolate bar. Stop being so stupid.” Aziraphale exhaled. 

“…When are you coming home?”

A knock interrupted his thought process as he heart sank. Oh… Oh heavens it was legitimately Heaven here to take back the Antichrist. He felt his whole body depart from its former, mortal shell. He slowly placed the phone receiver on the table as he made his way to the door, tip toeing into fate’s arms.

It was the end of their charade for sure. 

Aziraphale’s hand touched the handle and slowly, ever so slowly opened the door… 

“Thought I’d surprise you.” His voice greeted him, the familiar yellow eyes of the demon offering him solace he never could prayed harder for. Aziraphale was not often one for physical contact, but it was one of those moments where he rushed into the demon’s arms. Crowley met his embrace slowly, his hand gently caressing the angel’s white locks. “It’s okay Aziraphale. I’m here.” He crooned into his ear, gently sweeping away a tear. 

“Please don’t leave again. Or at least take me with you. I can’t… I don’t want to do this by myself. Child raising is a scary business…” 

“Of course.” He spoke, his tone providing the absolution Aziraphale craved. He released the angel and the two of them walked into the bookshop, fingers intermingled together. 

 

_____________________________________

 

“So that’s the game you’re playing at, eh Crowley? Wily son of a bitch…”


	4. The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I get 1,000 kudos I'll write a potty training chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the only ride at Disney I don't often miss.

Four. Four was an unremarkable age, save the fact that potty training was well behind them at that point. I’m sure plenty of you wanted to read a chapter all about the intricacies of potty training a three year old, but I’ve decided, executively, to spare you the gory details of the affair. Mostly because the demon found this fate far worse than being damned to hell directly by Satan himself. 

Aziraphale was a trouper. One of a kind, that angel was. He just handled it with the sort of grace that Jesus himself would exhibit. Bugger was more perfect than he assumed all those years ago. Four.

There are many things that come in fours: sets of chairs normally come in fours, cups/glasswear, cardinal directions, suites in a deck of cards… horsemen of the apocalypse. 

Suppose that was the best way to start out. 

Crowley sped past the pedestrians on the street, cursing every minor inconvenience and speed bump along the way. The number four dancing in his mind as he thought about the gift he was going to give Adam this year. Aziraphale stressed that it was not good to treat the boy any different than you would /any/ other child. But he wasn’t just /any/ other child, he was /his/ child. As far as he was concerned. And if anything, the kid was going to have awesome birthdays. Of course, he wouldn’t blatantly admit that considered himself a /father/, on the contrary, he insisted that Adam never refer to him under those father/parental terms because he was /far/ too young to be a father. Aziraphale reveled in the concept of being ‘father’ though, as Crowley simply preferred to be called Crowley. 

Freddy Mercury droned on as he realized a certain awkward pitch omitting from the radio.

Shit. 

“Crowleyyyy…” The voice croaked, startling him out of his thoughts of four and things that were in fours. 

“Yes my lord?” 

“You’ve been late with your reports lately. We’re assuming you are up to no good.”

“Isn’t that the point of me existing?”

“It’s not funny, Crowley. You’re up to something and we don’t think it would be beneficial for your health if you continue to proceed in the way you are… proceeding.” Crowley was introspective as he let out of a gasp. Four. It was considered bad luck in China. Of course that was what he was thinking. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a hell of an idea. Just gotta give me some time. Remarkable evil deeds take a bit of time, as you’re aware.”

“It better impress me.”

“You worry too much, my lord. I’m good at this type of thing. I was made to do it, obviously.”

The radio gurgled back into oblivion and left Crowley up to his own devices again. Unless Disney Paris was considered evil, he would have nothing that interesting to report over the weekend. He slid the Bentley into a perfect parallel position in front of the bookstore and wandered inside, meeting the familiar gaze of both of his favorite people in existence.  
“Crowley!” Adam called, being whisked into the demon’s hands and demanding to get on his shoulders. And who was he to deny such a simple request? “Father said you brought me a gift!”

“Now why would I do that?” He knew Adam would be frowning at the prospect of him forgetting his birthday. Aziraphale was a bit disgruntled as well, wondering if Crowley had forgotten his birthday. “Not like it’s a holiday or somethin’. Now go out to the car and grab my coat for me, will ya? I seemed to have left it in the back.” Adam dejectedly got down and went outside, Aziraphale and Crowley watching him from the door. 

“You didn’t forget, did you?” The angel’s voice sounded slightly concerned. “If we’re neglecting him, he’ll surely become the antichrist…”

“Angel. Watch.” He demanded as the child got the coat out and looked at him curiously. “Adam, check the pocket for me, will you?” Adam carefully pulled out three ticket stubs and looked at him cautiously. “Now bring them to your father and have him tell us where we’re going.” Aziraphale’s face folded into a mixture of confusion and excitement as Adam thrust the tickets into his hands.

“Let me see here… Oh Crowley… I believe these are tickets to Disney Paris.” Adam’s eyes lit up. He let out a small yelp and hurriedly ran inside to go /pack/. His words clumsily sounded like a haphazard mixture of the words from ‘Let it Go’ and ‘You’ve got a friend in me’. 

“What part of /unremarkable/ childhood did you not seem to understand?” Aziraphale spoke, a small smile on his lips as he looked at him. 

“I don’t follow directions very well. But I figured I would do it and then ask for forgiveness later.” 

“You wily serpent. I suppose we ought to pack now. Those tickets listed this weekend. Must have been a right fortune.”

“I’ve got a few friends in the business.”

“Didn’t know demons specialized in animation studios and musicals.”

“Walt Disney needed some intervention along the way.” Crowley spoke, leading the angel back inside. 

Alas, the one thing they failed to notice were the ever watchful eyes of Hastur, who carefully scoped the area. 

“What a secret to hide. Dating a man and adopting an orphan. Crowley, you right bastard. Looks like I’ll have to join your trip and ensure that you’re the only one who gets home in one piece.”

Humans had an interesting way of making even the most simple things completely convoluted. This included the whole inconvenience that was air travel. If it had been simply Aziraphale and Crowley alone, they could have just miracled their way to Paris without a second thought. 

“Just give the kid a Benadryl and we’ll skip the airport bullshit.”

“I’m /not/ drugging my own child. Besides, it’s gotten much better since 1940. If you hate it so much you could have just gotten him tickets to go to the zoo in London.”

“Disney is more than just a /zoo/, angel. And he only turns 4 once! Plus, you saw how happy he was with those tickets. A damn gorilla doesn’t even compare, honestly.” Aziraphale let out a chuckle, putting his hands on his hips and examining his companion carefully. 

“I never said they were comparable. Nor did you have to go completely out of your way to surprise him like this.” Crowley felt defenseless like this, as if the angel could actually see the color of his soul. Well, the color it would be if he actually possessed a soul. 

“It was mostly for your expression really. There are a lot of interesting things to try and I figured you never indulged yourself in the /magic/ of it.” He mused, “Perhaps we can drink some wine and enjoy the fireworks?” 

When did he get so damn charming? 

“I’d like that quite a bit,” Aziraphale mused, feeling a light tinge of red highlight his face. Crowley knew exactly what made the angel tick and it amused him whenever he got him flustered. 

“Or perhaps we can get a bit more intimate? When Adam goes to bed we can have some fine wine and indulge in each other’s company?”

“Oh I always love having deep conversations with you. Been quite a while since we’ve gotten the chance to do that.”

“I’m talking about something that goes beyond the scope of words, angel.” Aziraphale looked puzzled before turning bright red. 

“You lewd scoundrel. To tempt me into bed with you like I was some sort of school aged maiden!” He huffed.

“If that were the scenario, I would be taking off your clothes already.”

“You do that enough with your glances.” 

“Only say the word.”

“Good night Crowley.” He huffed with indignation as he would leave Crowley bathed in the moonlight to finish his wine. Alone. 

“Good night Aziraphale…” 

We rejoin our adoring companions at the entrance of Disney Paris, Adam extending both of his hands to hold a hand of each of his father-figures. Aziraphale offered a timid smile as he let Adam pick the rides they would go on. Of course, he wanted to go on “It’s a Small World’. Aziraphale kindly allowed Crowley to do the honors, as he found the music intolerable.

Crowley did as well. But lines annoyed him more. As soon as Aziraphale left them up to their own devices, he glanced at Adam and said, “Don’t tell your father.” Upon saying this, everyone in the line in front of them suddenly vanished and reappeared in line of people attempting to get dole whip, which was where Aziraphale found himself. The angel took a double take and noticed how the line was miraculously longer than he remembered it being not a few seconds ago. 

“Crowley…”  
“Wow! Everyone decided to leave before we got here!” Adam exclaimed, taking Crowley’s hand and guiding him into a boat to enter the dark ride. Crowley chuckled as he boarded with his young /son/ and hoped Aziraphale enjoyed the crowds. 

“Yeah kiddo. It is your birthday weekend after all. Everyone knows it.” Crowley explained, gently patting the back of Adam’s head and watching the boat depart into the murky abyss. Then it got weird.

He remembered the animatronics looking obscure, but never quite this /demonic/. Even the sound was pitched up to something that was only slightly bit more tolerable than the original piece. 

Are you kidding me now?

“Crowley you right bastard.” He heard a familiar, but unwelcome voice trail after them in the boat behind them. Adam looked at him with cautious confusion, unable to make out his expression because of the darkness and his sunglasses. 

The ride shut down. Everything went pitch black. Even the shitty song would be better than being sitting ducks in a dark ride. 

“Daddy…” Adam’s voice almost broke his heart, “I’m scared.” Crowley did the only thing he could think of and enveloped the child in his arms. 

“Don’t worry kiddo, nothing will happen to you. Not while I’m here.” He muttered, feeling the rage of hell rush over him. Hell could pull this kind of rubbish when it was just him in the Bentley, but bringing Adam into it? There was nothing on the face of the planet that would make him angrier. “How about we sing something together, eh?” The idea formed in his head as he gained this confidence to face every demon in hell to protect his son. 

“You do a really funny Elsa impression…” Adam’s voice sounded small, but more joy deriving from it.

“Now how does it go again, buddy?” Crowley stood up, making eye contact with the demon trailing behind them. 

“L-L-Let it go, let it go…” Adam’s voice wavered, feeling his heart sink. Crowley glanced back at him, offering him an encouraging glance. “Cant hold it back anymore!” 

“Let it go, let it go!” Crowley over annunciated every word, “Turn away and slam the door!” Adam giggled as he joined in with this father figure. “I don’t care what they’re going to say, let the storm rage on!” Hastur came into view, looking exceptionally confused with what was going on in that exact instance. 

“Crowley what on e-“ 

“The cold never bothered me anyway!!!!” Adam yelped as he held his hands out in front of him like Elsa, signalling Crowley to send a blast of wind to knock the demon back. Adam’s arms flew in front of him as everything in the cavern blasted back into life, the lights pouring in. The familiar song seeming to bring everything in Disney back from hell. Adam glanced at Crowley in confused amusement, “did you see that?”

“Yeah, I guess we can’t let you watch Frozen anymore…” 

The demon had flown off of the boat and face planted in the murky waters, cursing to himself as he heard the child giggling and the ride starting up once more with its obnoxious jingle. “I’m going to CROWN you Crowley. You and that… magical adopted son of yours.”

It had not occurred to him that, that was indeed the antichrist. In fact, he thought Crowley had just gotten soft. It also had not occurred to Crowley how to explain this demonic encounter and how Adam used his hidden Elsa abilities to blow a demon away and bring the power back. He just was hoping Adam would never want to watch that damn movie ever again. 

The two of them rejoined Aziraphale, Adam rambling on and on about how he used his magic to save daddy from the dark. The angel nodded, listening carefully to the story before deciding it was a bit too cute to be an idea produced by the demon. 

“That sounds exciting. But how about we finally get you the cake we promised back in London?”

“CAKE!” Adam screamed, causing the angel to blush a bit out of amusement. Guess they really were quite similar after all. 

“The apple doesn’t fall far…” Crowley announced, a smile on his curved lips. “Come along, we’ve still got a whole park to see.”


	5. Love is Unkind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh...
> 
> Angst?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turmoil and emotion and all that garbage really. Figured I needed at least one chapter dedicated to how 6,000 years of bedroom eyes led to absolutely nothing. 
> 
> Next chapter will be happier.

Time was a cruel mistress. Especially when you are immortal and you have all the time in the world. But all of that time had to account for and do… Something, right? 

Adam was now attending school. Aziraphale found himself stifling with the vast number of things he could do now that he had the freedom. The bookstore was cleaner and he was able to have more time for himself. He thought it would get easier, but every day he seemed to watch the hours and excitedly wait for Adam’s arrival. 

He had half a mind to ask Crowley for another one. 

Half a mind, mind you. But the two of them had a lot more time for each other. Going to brunch places and enjoying leisurely mornings, just the two of them. 

“You look off,” Crowley mused, straightening up in his chair and raising his cup to his lips. 

“Just thinking about Adam….” Aziraphale spoke, his eyes barely able to focus on the pages in front of him. 

“Angel, he loves school. He probably loves going to school more than he loves staying at home with us. He is fine,” the demon chuckled, seeing the subtle expression change on his companion’s lips. “Aziraphale?”

“No, no. You are right, dearest. There is no need for me to be concerned on his behalf.” Aziraphale’s hand stirred the spoon settling in his tea and watched the steam with quiet admiration. “Perhaps I did hope he would hate it so I could home school him.” 

“You.. Us… Teaching? Aziraphale, you were never even good at doing basic arithmetic.”

“I mean, we could get private tutors.”

“Idiot. You’re just projecting. Normal children go to school to meet other normal children and do /normal/ children things. You were the one insisting that we stayed as tried and true to that notion.” The angel looked a bit down. “We’ve got a few hours before he comes home. Let’s do something.” Crowley stood up instantly, setting his teacup down and walking over to his companion, offering his hand. 

He titled his head, the sound of soft music began to pour from the record player. An instrumental he had no recollection of… Aziraphale bit his lip and felt confusion wash over his expression. 

“May I have this dance?” 

“Dear me. You know how dreadful I am at dancing. I only knew one, which was such a long time ago…”

“No time like the present.” Crowley’s hands slipped on Aziraphale’s waist, his eyes meeting his companion with the utmost unfaltering compassion. The angel’s arms draped around Crowley’s neck, his boney shoulders more defined under his own arms. Crowley took a step back and pulled Aziraphale closer, his motions firm and guiding, and most important, loving. They rocked back and forth, the music swaying gently between them, but their motions weren’t guided by the tempo. Crowley had lost himself in Aziraphale’s blue complexion and soft smile. Of course, Crowley was often lost in his inner thoughts about Aziraphale. 

They say love is like an open door. Their love, at this moment, more so resembled a freshmen college dorm. The intermingling between students at all hours, the drunk conversations in the common room, diets not being followed, classes promptly ignored and fire alarms buzzing at 3AM because some idiot was smoking weed. 

It wasn’t very romantic, but very rarely did real life offer such loving embraces and warm kisses on summer afternoons. Love came in slow, sleepy kisses and bittersweet guitar riffs. Love came in sweat laced brows and longing eyes peering over shot glasses. Love came after 6,000 years of gazing at one who you, foolishly, assumed was your mortal enemy. Love came fast and hard, and often left you feeling so lost that you may have considered it was better to have never loved at all. 

Love was blind and stupid, but wonderful all the same. 

“You’re beautiful,” the words slipped from the demon’s lips without hesitation, catching the angel off-guard. “I could stare into your eyes forever.”

“We have forever.” Aziraphale mused, his expression completely unreadable. “But dearest, we cannot…” His voice trailed off.

“Why not, Aziraphale? We’re causing so much trouble already, why can’t we just take it all the way?”

“I…I cannot do that.” His hands slipped from Crowley’s neck, guilt framed his crown. The demon felt something bubble up in his gut as he grabbed the angel’s wrists and thrust him against the wall. 

“Tell me you love me!” His voice sounded beastly, and hungry. Hungry for the affection he couldn’t have from Aziraphale. His sunglasses slipped from his nose as he focused on the angel, tipping over the bridge. “Tell me dammit! Fucking hell! Anything! Just whisper something to me and tell me that everything we’ve been through for 6,000 fucking years was not for nothing…” Aziraphale froze, his eyes pained and small streaks of blood dripping from his wrists where Crowley pressed his nails.

“Y-You know the answer to that.”

“And not even an utterance?”

“You /know/ that’s forbidden.”

“I don’t even… I don’t even fucking care!” He released him, watching Aziraphale’s sweet complexion fade into grey. “I-I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have..”

“No harm done, really.” Aziraphale muttered, his handkerchief gently dabbing the blood off of his wrists. He forgot how violent Crowley could get. He looked as if he were going to cry… Or perhaps he already was. Crowley bent down on his knee and held out his hand.

“I’m sorry.” 

Aziraphale put his hand carefully in Crowley’s, and watched as the demon carefully pressed his lips to his wrist. The wounds miracled away. Of course, Aziraphale could have healed himself, but it was something else entirely.

“I know you cannot say it, but I legitimately do not care who hears me. I love you, my dumb principality. And I always have loved you, and I most likely will always love you.”

For love is both stupid and unfair, really. 

“I..” 

“Don’t speak.” Crowley said gently, raising himself up and closing the distance between the two of them. A kiss. Electric and strong, like a current. Aziraphale stood a gape, breathless. Of course, he had no need to breath to begin with. “Adam will be home soon.”

“Y-Yes, very well.”


	6. Stranger Danger (Pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving right now and honestly this is cheaper than therapy.
> 
> Part 2 is in the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have only been living in the residence I've been currently staying at for a year and I have way more garbage than I care to admit. I can only imagine how much shit Aziraphale has accumulated over the years. I often find myself wishing I could magic it out of the boxes but...?

Adam was getting older. 6 years old, to be exact. Aziraphale had begun to notice a lot of changes in the school/life environment they lived through. Crowley, since the accident, had decided to go back to living in his own flat in order to /not roll the dice and do anything he’d regret/. They would now take Adam independently, almost like they had gotten a divorce. 

Which I suppose was the best way to refer to that prior explosion. Aziraphale hated being alone in the bookshop. He /hated/ being alone at night, listening for the familiar sulking of Crowley’s footsteps prodding up into the study. He had no need or desire to sleep, but without Crowley, he felt the need to do so just to waste the /time/. He missed Crowley’s subtle touches on the shoulder and his soft preening of the angel’s hair. Aziraphale once had an aversion to be touched at all, hating the sensation of someone against his skin. But Crowley, he was addicted to the feel of Crowley. Every electric buzz on the surface of his skin caused by the demon made his heart pound. 

The kiss. It lingered on his lips like a ghost, offering sweet nothings for relief. Aziraphale wanted to call him and apologize. He wanted so much to tell him that Heaven and Hell did not matter, that it was only /them/. The only two things in the world he cared about: Adam and Crowley. For he had been so stupid and ignorant to the man’s feelings. Forgiveness was not something he could just demand upon the beast, because he did not deserve to be forgiven. 

So he slept. 

Adam found his bouncy curls going to Crowley’s for the weekend. Normally his father, Aziraphale, would pack him some ridiculous amount of clothes and what not for the brief trip. This time, he had forgotten to give Adam anything. In fact, he even forgot to give Adam money to get lunch at school that day. The boy stood outside watching for the Bentley, offering a big smile as he saw the demon peel up to the front of the school. 

“Carriage for the young master,” Crowley spoke, his voice sounding jovial as usual. “How was school?”

“Fine! Pepper beat up a boy today and I watched.” 

“Isn’t that lovely.” He held back his smile, obviously not wanting to give Adam the wrong impression. He liked Pepper alright, she was definitely going to beat up every man she met. Which was quite alright with him, as far as he was concerned. “You normally have an extra bag for the weekend, where is it?”

“Father never packed it.” Adam responded, sitting in the front seat and carefully buckling in. “He’s been in a mood lately.”

Odd. 

“Everything else okay?” Crowley asked, feeling his heart plunge further into his chest as he felt like something was most certainly /wrong/. 

“He’s been sleeping for the past three days. Couldn’t wake him, even for crumpets. But I went to the store and everything for him. I even brewed him that tea he likes that is nasty. He’s just been… asleep.” Adam stared at him carefully, “Since you moved out, he’s been acting weird and I miss you too. Will you come home, Dad?”

That was it. His heart was literally broken and stomped on. But Aziraphale would never admit to being /so/ wrong. But he knew the love of his life. They were dumb and sentimental and perhaps, at times, over dramatic. Azirphale might as well have developed broadway because he was more than just a little overdramatic. Of course it hurt Crowley how /badly/ Aziraphale was taking this, but it was /kinda/ his fault. And then he got an idea. 

A thoughtful Crowley was a fate no one had ever wanted, because it normally led to stupid things happening. Stupid, and particularly /bad/ things. But he was a demon and bad ideas were the reason for his existence. 

They parked the Bentley in front of his apartment as he practically shoved Adam up the stairs. He offered a small smile and waved. The conversation before hand went something a little like this…

“Alright Adam, what do you say if a stranger asks to come inside?”

“Coming!” 

“No. Adam. No. Strangers are dangers. You don’t answer the door to strangers. What about if a stranger offers you candy?”

“What flavor?”

“I don’t know?? Which ones do yo- IT DOESN’T MATTER. YOU STILL SAY NO.”

“Got it. Unless it’s chocolate.”

“God you really are his son aren’t you?” He huffed, “No. No. Never. Not even if it is the nicest chocolate you can buy. No means no, got it?”

“Got it! No means no, especially to chocolate and sweets.”

“What about if they offer to take you to Disney World?”

“YEAH!” Crowley’s palm went to his forehead in feigned annoyance. 

“No. You say no. It doesn’t matter where the stranger offers to take you or what kind of candy they have you say no!”

“Got it!”

The message was not very clear, either that or Adam was not a bright child. But you cannot judge intelligence simply on street smarts. Adam was very well read, but that was because Aziraphale made it so. Adam was quoting Shakespeare before he was finished wearing diapers, a fact Aziraphale would tut about to every customer who would listen. But one cannot be overly shocked, hearing an infant reciting “To be or not to be” is something to behold. Of course, Crowley would purposely feed him the wrong words just to see the anger on the angel’s brow. 

His instructions were to “Under no circumstance whatsoever to let strangers into this house. It doesn’t matter if he’s offering you sweets or a trip to Disney World or the chance to meet Michael Sheen or take you to the moon or offering to you to be the new companion on Doctor Who.” This child needs to stop watching the damn telly. 

And with that, he left to awaken Aziraphale from his endless slumber. Depression naps for centuries were his thing, and to think anyone would willingly copy his coping method was disgruntling enough. But the angel? He would have never imagined such a thing happening, or at least, not for such a silly reason. He threw the door of the bookstore open, and almost ran up the stairs. “Angel! Get your ass up and talk to me!” His voice echoed through the house like an echo chamber. “Aziraphale!” He basically stood in the doorframe, gathering his courage. To say what? Was he sorry for leaving? Was he sorry for telling Aziraphale he wouldn’t tolerate the bullshit anymore?

Nah. 

But the sleeping angel caught his vision. One sight he only saw very few times, because most times he was asleep before Aziraphale was. He examined him sweetly before walking over to the bedside, kneeling down and sweeping the hair from his eyes. He heard the soft breathing and watched his lips carefully. He closed his eyes and bent over, gently meeting Aziraphale’s sleepy mouth. It was chaste and fast, and Crowley assumed that would do the trick.

But as I said before, love stories often don’t turn out like they do in the books. And it seemed like a kiss from his true love wouldn’t do the trick. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Crowley snapped his fingers as a cup of water appeared in his hand as he threw it on top of the male’s sleepy brow. Aziraphale groaned unpleasantly before opening his eyes. 

“W-What do -hic- want?” 

“Fuck are you drunk?”

“Whatsittoyou?” He hummed, his eyes bleary from sleep. 

“You’ve been drunk and asleep for four god damn days Aziraphale. How the hell did you manage that?”

“Been saving -hic- wine for the occasion.” The male grunted, sitting up in his bed. “Did… Did you really have to do that?”

“Four. Days. FOUR DAYS AZIRAPHALE.”

“Four?” He looked confused before a panicked expression hit his brow, “A-A-Adam where is Adam???” 

“You fucking idiot.” 

“I am an idiot.”

Adam had permission to watch anything he wanted in Crowley’s absence. He gave no directions and honestly, what could he do about it? Crowley only had a DVR filled with Golden Girls reruns anyway, not like he would notice ‘Kill Bill’ or “South Park’ in the queue. Adam’s vocabulary grew to an unpleasant amount of words in a few short hours, with enough curses to make demons in hell blush. The knocking on the door welcomed a necessary but evil break from binging television. 

“Hello little boy.” A voice greeted him from the doorbell. 

“Who’s there?”

“Just your friends Hastur and Ligur.”

“I don’t have any friends with that name. Good bye.”   
“W-WAIT!” The taller demon spoke, “We’re friends of Crowley’s! Known him for years, you know.”

“Oh… Well I guess that’s okay.” Friends of his dad didn’t count under sweets, Disney World, Michael Sheen or Doctor Who… Did it? Adam thought about it for a moment as his hand began to undo the lock of the door before pausing. “You aren’t going to offer me any sweets or Disney World are you?”

“We could give you a puppy.”

“Wow! Father won’t let me get a dog but I’ve always wanted one!” 

“Then let us in.”

“You outta wait until dad gets home. I’m not allowed to let strangers in. Good bye.”

Adam walked away from the door as he heard a distinctive amount of foul language. He had never heard the word ‘cunt’ before and he was sure to pepper it in his vocabulary like fine parmesan cheese at an Italian restaurant, IE, pour it all over the salad so you could pretend you were eating vegetables. 

“Get in the damn tub, Aziraphale.” 

“I’m fine. I don’t need you to treat -hic- me like someone who has never gotten drunk before.” Aziraphale fumbled with his waist coat, unable to get the buttons to come undone. Crowley huffed, feeling the blush flood his features. 

“Just hurry up and take a bath. You reek of cabernet…” He spoke, eyeing him cautiously. “Should I help you take off your clothes?”

“You filthy man…” Aziraphale stumbled over himself, so drunk he couldn’t even sober himself up the normal way. “Just give me a moment. I’m fine really.”

“Just get in the tub you stupid angel. Don’t make me force you.”

“Threatening does not make you desirable. I d-detest a man with an attitude.” Aziraphale stumbled over his words just as easily as he was stumbling over his pant legs. Crowley found this incredibly sexy. He was practically going to lose his mind if he didn’t /touch/ him. The angel gazed at him with a look that he could only discern as desire as he grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the bed. 

“I’m going to take off your clothes and then I’m going to make you beg for me.” He growled in the angel’s ear, feeling Aziraphale shutter under his fingers. 

“Y-You’re going to do w-what?”

“I’m going to /fuck/ you Aziraphale. I’m going to claim every inch of you.”

“T-That’s not the best way to sweet talk me. I don’t like that word. You could be a decent man and use the term ‘have sex’.”

“That’s not what I’m going to do to you.” Aziraphale let out a gasp as he felt his lips bare down on his neck, feeling the heat spread down his spine like a hot iron. Crowley’s hands eagerly unbuttoned his waist coat and slipped up his shirt. He felt the man moan under his fingers as he pressed his lips down harder, compressing the sounds. 

“Not now Crowley…” He hummed into his ear. “Not when I feel this awful. I want this to be pleasant.” He groaned, knowing his body was distinctively giving him away. The demon froze, tearing himself reluctantly away from him. 

“You’re right. Sorry…” He spoke, “J-Just go take a bath.”

“Yes dear.” He responded, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. “I love you too, Crowley.” The demon gazed at him dumbstruck as Aziraphale stole a kiss. 

Bugger.


	7. Stranger Danger (Pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy never forgives either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Potts's other cat is named Hilda and her 0.5 of a cat is Wanda. If Wanda stopped peeing all over the damn house she would let her in. (I'm sure you wanted to read about more Az/Crowley but let's be real, this is the real show stopper).

“Keep the change, you filthy animal.” Adam hissed under his breath as he stood precariously close to the door. His dad’s friends didn’t take “go away” as an adequate answer and now things were going to get /serious/. Which meant that Adam was going to get to do some pranks that he had seen others do on telly. His father would be furious if he found out.

Note: Father is Aziraphale and dad is Crowley. Although Crowley hates the sentiment of being called dad, even though he quite enjoys the title. Or perhaps he had just grown overly attached to Adam. But this is not the time and the place to mention titles, because some serious Home Alone bullshit is about to go down and honestly I’m more than a little hyped to tell everyone about it. 

“Come on out little boy. Your dad said it was okay for us to come in….” Hastur’s voice sounded sickeningly sweet. It was one of those tones you assumed a child predator would use. The other demon just looked annoyed.

“You can open the door. Locks are no big deal for us.”

“Well, yes. But then it might cause a scene.”

“We kill the child. We kill his partner. We teach him that hell has no place for being fluffy and cute. He was damned to bring them into his bullshit anyway, he’s a /demon/.”

Mrs. Potts was a very nosy woman. Adam was an annoying brat and his dad was up at all hours screaming at his petunias. Even though they were /bad/ neighbors, the concept of anyone killing a child was something beyond her well brought up Christian personage. And referring to the man as a demon? Surely he was a very /peculiar / man who sauntered a little too vaguely for her liking, she didn’t think he was the work of the devil! Any man who can tempt Percy out of a tree was semi-decent in her books. Also note, Percy is a cat. Mrs. Potts had 2.5 cats. One may ask how you have a 0.5 of a cat, but that is someone who doesn’t understand the concept of feeding a stray without bringing it into your house. It doesn’t count in /your/ count of cats, but it is still partly your cat. Logistics. 

“Well I’ll be!” She hummed, holding her wine glass to the wall and hearing the conversation crystal clear. “A regular ole kidnaping! On Anthony’s child, no less!” She tutted, pursing her lips out and shaking her head. “Nothing the police can’t handle! Honestly why did Anthony leave him alone anyway? Isn’t he like, four?”

Correction. Adam is six. Not old enough to be left home alone, but definitely not four. 

Percy meowed at her, promptly reminding her that it was approximately 0.009 seconds past the regulated feeding time. Something he was sure not to forget, nor would he ever allow her to forget either. “Percy you’ll need to wait, this is a life or death situation!”

But Percy waits for no one. 

The lock on the other door jingled loudly as some weird magic could be heard. It hit the ground with a loud clunk. The two figures entered, but their footsteps paused near the entrance for some time. 

Then the screaming began. 

It wasn’t just a yelp, it was a full blown ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ yodel emitting itself from the jaws of the demon who got… pardon the vulgarity, a nutsack full of cast iron frying pan. The other demon was thankfully only impaled by a cactus. Which wouldn’t be overly terrible if Crowley hadn’t had the finest cacti in the world. Ligur would be pulling spines out of his, pardon the vulgarity once more, ass until the cows came home. Note, for all you folks who don’t live in the south, that is a really long time because cows do not like to come /home/ after long trips abroad. 

But honestly that wasn’t the worst of the abuse. 

They would have been lucky with just that. But Crowley was an exceptional dad and as such, he provided Adam with luxuries no six year old had any right to have. Thus, Adam had the collectors edition Millennium Falcon LEGO set, which now was lining the floors intricately to offer the most damage possible. 

Not to mention, Mrs.Potts was currently on the phone with the police. 

“Hello ma’am, what’s your emergenc-“ the voice paused in order to let the demon finish howling from down the hall. “I-Is everything alright?”

“It’s been a bit overcast but… This is no time for idle chit chat! A young boy and his father are about to be /assassinated/!”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“MURRRRRRDDDDDEERRRRRRRRRED. KILLLLLLEDDDDDD. ASSAULTED…… TERMINATED!” She sounded flabbergasted, “Honestly you’re quite useless at your job if you don’t come over quickly!”

Percy stood at the entrance of Crowley’s apartment, glancing carefully at the two agonized demons before offering a loud meow. 

“Oh hello Percy!” Adam’s voice rang out from behind a pillow fort awkwardly towering up in the living room. 

“Damn b-b-boy!” Hastur cried through grit teeth as he looked over to his companion, noting the particularly prickly complexion. The feline’s ears perked up as he jumped onto the top of the door with relative ease. “Don’t just stand there! Kill him!” 

As I said before, Percy does not forget. And there were very few things that triggered the feline to act and one such thing was missing dinner. The problem, or problems, in this situation would need to be disposed of and he was the cat to do it. That was when /all/ hell broke loose, in the most literal sense imaginable. 

For you see, Adam’s trap did not entirely go off. There was one more part that was to be reckoned with, and that was the holy water dangling on the door top just waiting for the /precise/ amount of feline weight to tip it over. Percy had successfully liquified Ligur. The melted remains of the man could be seen gushing down the hallway as the police flooded the complex, Hastur’s grief stricken cries both alarming and unsettling Adam. “I-I’m going to make you pay for that…” the demon’s words met Adam’s ears. The demon disappeared, leaving nothing but the goo and LEGOs that once constructed his dear friend. 

“Good boy.” Adam spoke, giving his cat friend a pat on the head. Tuna was surely in his future.

Aziraphale was busy melting into the bathtub as Crowley’s hands eagerly scrubbed his scalp, the angel getting a literal high from the praise. That was, until the phone rang.

“That’s odd…” He fumbled with the cord and cocked his head. “Yes, this is Mr. Fell.”

“Hi Mr. Fell, this is the police. We have Adam in our custody.” 

“P-Pardon?”

“Your son. He gave us the number to call you. Someone broke into your partner’s house and tried to kidnap your son. Apparently he melted him?”

“M-Melted? How… Did our… I’m sorry did you say he melted someone?”

“Crazy story, right? Anyway you two shouldn’t leave your four year old home alone.”

“He’s six.”

Aziraphale promptly passed out.


	8. Fundraising Fiasco (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I assumed special meant unique cocoa powder. Not drugs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a first year teacher and honestly I've been so busy I can't even finish this not.....

Adam is now 8 years old. Yes, I did skip 7 because honestly, I really didn’t want to use the same 6-year-old joke I did the last chapter and it would have continued if I did not change up the pacing of these silly chapters. As 8-year-olds are want to do, they typically progress further in their schooling and thus this conversation occurred round the dinner table.

“Adam, how was school today?” Aziraphale spoke, as he pushed his napkin closer to his chin, watching the boy curiously push the aging, uneaten Brussels sprout along the outer rim of his plate. 

“Good.” That answer was not long enough or nearly acceptable enough. 

“Just good? What about your friends?”

“They’re fine Father. May I be excused to do homework?”

“Yes go,” Aziraphale tutted under his breath as he watched the boy run through the kitchen and dump the remainder of his plate unceremoniously into the garbage can. “Crowley, we have a problem.”

“Yes. Your Brussels sprouts are really kind of gross. Perhaps you ought to use more butter…”

“FORGET THE DAMN VEGETABLE! It’s about Adam!” Crowley lowered his glasses and coughed, trying to obscure his chuckle.

“What is wrong with Adam?” He tried to sound concerned and serious, after all, it was about his son. 

“He doesn’t talk to us anymore. He used to tell me all about school and his life but now… Now he just keeps it all to himself. It is very concerning. What if he is getting bullied?”

“Now now my love, what makes you think this is a bad thing?” Crowley took to his feet and slid his arms around Aziraphale’s neck lovingly. “Perhaps he is just… Well… Growing up.” 

Out of everything Aziraphale wanted, it was not Adam /growing up/. Especially if that meant that he would no longer communicate his every thought or action with his adoring father. He fumed silently under Crowley’s arms, the rage encompassing him like an adequately buttered slice of toast. 

One thing that teachers despise is the concept of parents not being involved with their children’s education. More often despised though, are parents who are overly involved in their children’s education. For more grating details on the matter, please search up PTA on Urban Dictionary. Third definition, not the first two. 

Aziraphale joined the PTA of Adam’s school.

Martha Wellingsworth was the president of the PTA, the queen of scalding hot tea and almost always seemed to have crumpets to go with it. 

Sharon Potts, not in any way related to Mrs. Potts and her 2.5 cats, was the vice president of the PTA. Her daughter, the valedictorian of the 2020 kindergarten class, was insightful and had an opinion about everything (well most of everything….)

And lastly, Aziraphale, who by circumstance (IE no one else joined the PTA) became the secretary of the PTA. He was more than happy to brew a pot of tea for every meeting had, but honestly had not cared about the politics and only cared about Adam’s personal and social calendar. This provided the necessary contention that Martha had craved since her last fight on Facebook two Tuesdays ago. 

“Obviously we need to plan a fundraising event and I believe Mr. Fell would be the perfect one to lead this matter.” Martha grinned toothlessly at the angel as he took a prolonged, if not obnoxiously long, sip of his tea. 

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be more /beneficial/ for one of you absolutely wonderful event planners to get that situated?” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, trying to expend his nervous energy about the matter.

“No, I agree with Martha, I’ve got the planning for Felicia’s school recital (the annual Children’s Choir disaster) to prepare for.” Aziraphale already had a headache from the last few years attending before he begged Adam to please find a different hobby. “Mr. Fell, do you mind if I call you Azzy?” 

“Mr. Fell is fine,” the angel wanted to curse at her. 

“Mr. Fell, how about you just have a bake sale? It’s easy enough and you are a shop owner so you can probably get others around you to donate baked goods.”

“S-Simple enough,” the angel tutted, “When is it happening?” Martha swiveled around in her chair to check the calendar, a deeply malicious grin befalling her face as she spoke the words…

“Tomorrow, obviously.”

/Tomorrow/.

If the demons previously had not been melted out of existence by his son, he would have assumed Martha was one. He felt automatically annoyed with the sentiment at hand but knew that the solution could be as easy as snapping his fingers. 

“You can’t just miracle 20 batches of snickerdoodles!” the voice of Gabriel hounded in the back of his mind. 

This is precisely what miracles were invented /for/. The impossible! Okay, perhaps we’re exaggerating impossible but there is no way he would turn up empty handed and be the reason why Adam would get nicknamed “the boy with the unreliable father-figure”. (Note, that is an exaggeration, I doubt elementary school kids even know what the word unreliable means let alone use it in such a derogatory manner.) 

And thus, he googled which bakery had the best chocolate brownies in the world. It was a small bakery in Colorado known for /special/ brownies. He was unsure what was so special about them, but he miracled at least 60 packages into the school to prepare for what would be the most successful bake sale in the history for elementary school bake sales. 

What could go wrong?


End file.
